


Running Away

by TWriter



Series: To Fall or To Fly [4]
Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Almost Caught, Dick is acting real weird, Sneaking Out, and it kinda hurt Damian's feelings, planning, storming off, suicidal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:31:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWriter/pseuds/TWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick wakes up the next morning, promising to stay until he's well, only to sneak out at the first opportunity to who knows where.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Away

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone happens to be following this series, I belatedly noticed that my timeline put Tim as Robin and left out Damian, so there were some VERY slight adjustments to early parts. Basically, all references to Robin now say Red Robin.

The next morning, Dick awoke to Bruce slumped forward on the side of the bed. He vaguely remembered being carried to his room by the older man, but wasn’t sure why Bruce was still there, let alone asleep at the foot of his bed.

As if sensing his son’s confused gaze, Bruce woke with a start and looked at his son.

“Morning,” said Bruce. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, although I doubt you did. Is there a reason you were asleep at the foot of my bed?”

Bruce looked at Dick with an expression Dick couldn’t place—an odd development, as the latter was trained by Batman, and almost always could read people, even Batman himself. Dick got the sense that Bruce was grappling with something, before ultimately deciding to answer with: “I brought you up here from the study. Must have been more tired than I thought, and fell asleep here.”

Dick wasn’t sure he believed him, but decided to let it go for the time being and made to get out of bed, only to be stopped by Bruce’s hand on his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“Home?”

“Dick, you are home. And you’re hurt, and Bludhaven is over an hour away. Would you at least stay here to rest up and get well before you go gallivanting off to injure yourself some more?”

“Bruce, I’ll have to go back soon anyway. I have shifts at work, and someone needs to patrol…”

“Alfred already handled work; I believe he told them there was a family emergency. And one of us can cover patrol. It’s the weekend, so Damian will be my backup, and Tim can handle Bludhaven for a few days.”

“You can’t send Tim by himself, he could get hurt!”

“Dick, you’re absolutely right. Patrolling by yourself absolutely gets you hurt, and when that happens, you should not continue patrolling as if there was nothing wrong. So that’s final. Tim can handle it. Now, you can either go back to bed, or come downstairs for breakfast.”

Dick sighed, wanting nothing more than for the day to be over. He doubted any of his family knew his plans for the evening—as flimsy as they may be, considering he had these plans fall through regularly—but they sure seemed to be keeping him in their grasp.

“I’ll go to sleep, my head does kind of hurt.”

“Good. I’ll send one of the boys up in a few hours with some breakfast. Go to sleep.”

With one last look at his ward, Bruce left the room for his son to sleep.

Or so he thought.

**

Dick feigned sleep for twenty minutes, waiting to see if his father was coming back any time soon. When he felt secure in his belief that Bruce would be gone for a while longer, he slipped from under the covers. Grabbing a slip of paper, he wrote “Video 9” and slipped it into his pocket. He was sure it would be found.

He slowly eased the window open, and looked to the ground twenty feet below. He briefly thought about simply falling, but decided against it—he couldn’t be sure that it would be successful.

Gracefully using a tree to his advantage, he made his way to the ground below, and swiftly ran to the gate. Knowing his family would all be sitting down to breakfast, he avoided any windows to the dining room or kitchen. He clambered over the gate, not wanting the alarm to note its opening, and walked quickly to his car, only to find the small form of his youngest brother leaning against the hood.

“Grayson, where are you going?”

“Uhh, just home, Little D,” answered Dick.

“It is my understanding that you have allowed yourself to get injured, Grayson. You should not be going anywhere.”

Dick flinched, hoping Damian remained unaware of exactly how true his statement was. “I’m fine, Damian.”

“No you are not fine. The running and climbing I just saw you do would not normally cause you to so much as break a sweat, but you’re breathing as if you have run across the world. Stop being a moron.”

“Damian, I am fine. I am not going to sit and argue with you. I am leaving, and if any of you don’t like it, that is too damn bad.” Without a good-bye, Dick strode to his car, pulled Damian from the hood, and was inside and driving off before Damian had time to react.

Perhaps if he had stayed a moment longer, he might have seen the brief flash of hurt across Damian’s face. Dick never behaved like this. He never spoke to Damian like that, and he certainly never drove off in a huff. Those were the actions of the younger Dick Grayson Damian had only heard about; the others all agreed, these moments were a thing of the past. 

So why was Dick acting so odd?


End file.
